


Listening to Connie's Ideas Never Turns Out Well

by Vespertillion



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, General Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2070921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vespertillion/pseuds/Vespertillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>um originally this was just one story but I'm shifting things up because I accidentally wrote a sort-of sequel haha whoops</p><p>anyway a collection of one-chapter incidents in which everyone makes the mistake of listening to Connie's ideas and everything goes south</p><p>there are relationships in here but it's definitely not ship-heavy bc sometimes we just need a nice genfic to get us through yknow</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nugget Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> this is stupid like this is literally the first fanfiction I've even attempted to write all the way through and it's about nuggets of all things smh  
> based on a real life experience kind of not really and also written at some unholy hour in the morning
> 
> idk I'm really bad at this but did you know you can buy 100 nuggets from McD's for only $25

When Armin did the math and figured out that 100 McDonald's chicken nuggets would only cost $25 (a little over $27 including tax), no one expected it to go this far.

"What if we bought all of those nuggets?" mused Connie.  "We could have a nugget party...  Would we even be able to eat all of those?"

"Geez, you really are stupid," scoffed Jean, crossing his arms.  "Sasha alone could easily eat all of them."

The gleam in Sasha's eyes didn't leave much room for doubt.

There was a brief pause before Connie spoke up again.  "Can we really do it?"

"Well, there's nine of us here, right?" replied Armin as he ran numbers through his head.  "So we'd only have to pitch in three dollars apiece to make it happen...  I'm more worried about whether or not they'd have 100 nuggets to actually give us."

Reiner spoke up from a couch in the corner of the student lounge.  "They certainly wouldn't turn us down.  The worst that could happen would be that we'd have to wait for a few minutes.  It wouldn't be that long, considering the time."  As though to make a point, he checked the time on his phone.  It was one in the morning.

"Are we really doing this?" asked Connie.  He needed some kind of verification, something to confirm that spending the next hour or so wading through piles of nuggets was a future he could count on.  "Is this really something that's happening?"

Eren smirked and slapped his three dollars down on the table.  The money piled up, a haphazard collection of single dollar bills and quarters spilling across the table.  They were doing this.  They were making this happen.

Eren eyed Sasha's slightly agape, drooling mouth.  "Hey.  Don't even think about eating all of the nuggets.  You'd better save some for me; I'm definitely going to eat more than you."

And so the event of a nugget-eating contest was quietly accepted and bets were passed around.  Eren definitely had the willpower to win: although he didn't possess any kind of personal motivation for the specific event, the motivation of being the best was enough for him.  On the other hand, Sasha certainly had the stomach for it.  She would not win for the sake of winning, like Eren--rather, she would win for the sake of eating.  

In the atmosphere of competition, eyes naturally turned towards Jean.  Surely with the chance to surpass Eren being presented, he would be eager to take advantage of it, but now he made no such move, and it was clear that he wasn't planning to.

"Fair enough," said Eren,  "But since you're being really lame about this, you have to be the one who orders 100 chicken nuggets.  You have to do it alone.  If they ask, you say it's all for yourself."

Jean's eyes narrowed as he considered this.  If he chose to be the one ordering 100 nuggets at 1 a.m., he would look like a huge loser, but at the same time there was no way he could eat more nuggets than Eren.  He was a loser either way, but in the end, it would be safer to accept Eren's challenge.  Backing away from it would make him look like a wimp.

Marco touched Jean's arm.  "Jean, I can go in with you if you'd like--"

Jean interrupted him with a confident grin.  "Please.  You heard the terms, I have to do this alone.  Besides, it's not even that bad.  Kind of a weaksauce dare if you ask me."

Eren shook his head.  "Hey, Jean...  You really can't say things like 'weaksauce' if you want to be taken seriously."

* * *

 

Jean's cocky attitude disappeared with a sinking feeling that settled unpleasantly in his stomach.  The girl at the counter was seriously cute--petite and blonde with the face of a goddess.  Her name tag read Krista.  He was not prepared to look like a complete idiot in front of Krista.

"Uh, hey," he said as he leaned against the counter and casually avoided eye contact by staring at the menu, "This is--Can I have 100 chicken nuggets?"

Krista looked very tired.  She didn't enjoy the late shift much.  "So...  That would be 5 orders of 20 nuggets?  Are you having some kind of party?"

Jean could feel his face heating up.  This was all Eren's fault.  "Yeah, that's fine."  And then, swallowing what was left of his pride:  "Uh, no.  No.  No party.  They're all for me.  I don't have any friends.  The nuggets are my friends."

There was a chance of redeeming himself.  He said it in such a way that he was clearly being sarcastic.  With any luck, she would catch on and he wouldn't have broken any rules.  Jean studied her face intently, hoping for some kind of sign that she'd gotten the hint.  She didn't even look at him.  She was busy ringing up the order.

"Alright, your total is $27.06."

To make things worse, Jean realized that he would be _that_ guy paying with cash.  In the excitement of everything, he'd rushed out with all the money on the table stuffed into his pockets.  His wallet had been left in his dorm, otherwise he would've used his card.

There was no going back.  His friends were surely laughing at his pain from the safety of their cars in the dark parking lot.

The process of counting out all twenty-seven dollars and six cents was painstakingly done, even more so considering that Krista had to count as well to make sure it was all there.  She gave up half way.  Jean didn't blame her.  He was just glad there was no one waiting in line behind him.  At least a scrap of dignity had been spared in that regard.

Krista turned to the girl on kitchen duty.  "Ymir, we have an order for 100 chicken nuggets."

Ymir had dark hair and freckles that reminded Jean of his friend Marco.  Her moody scowl did not remind him of Marco.  

"Hey, don't I know you?" she said, narrowing her eyes at Jean.

He recognized her vaguely from one of his classes.  "Um.  No."

"Yeah I do.  We're in history together."  She smirked.  "Honestly, you're just the kind of loser I would expect to order 100 nuggets at one in the morning."

Jean left the establishment as a young man who had lost all traces of pride and dignity, but had gained 100 chicken nuggets.

* * *

 

They assembled in Reiner and Bertholt's dorm.  It was the most neatly-kept among the group of friends, creating the illusion of more space in which they could bask in the glory of 100 (slightly stale) chicken nuggets.

Twenty-one nuggets had been distributed between three bowls: one for Eren, one for Sasha, and one for Bertholt, who they'd convinced to join mostly because they were curious as to how much he could eat.

(He could probably eat a lot, speculated Eren.  After all, he was so _tall_ \--surely someone as tall as him must have a colossal appetite.  Bertholt, of course, dismissed this with nervous laughter and modest words, assuring them that he couldn't possibly hope to out-eat Sasha.)

The three contestants sat around the coffee table, eyeing the bowls.  Twenty-one nuggets certainly looked like a lot.

The specific number of nuggets had come from Armin, who, after plugging a lot of numbers into his calculator and nearly killing the excitement in the process, sort of shrugged and stated that the number he'd come up with was "good enough" despite not being perfect.  Giving 21 nuggets to each contestant would allow everyone else to have six nuggets, he explained, and then sheepishly added that there was a remainder of one and, had he been given more time, probably could have figured out a way in which nuggets could be distributed without a remainder.  

Connie replied that frankly he didn't really care as long as he was getting food.  Everyone else agreed with him.

The rules to the contest were simple.  Whoever ate all 21 nuggets the fastest won.  They could only eat one at a time, no sauce allowed, and the loser had to give their remaining nuggets to Bertholt because "he can probably eat more than what's in the bowl and I just really want to see what his limit is".  Bertholt looked very nervous about this, although it was hard to tell because he looked nervous at just about everything.  It was safe to say that he looked slightly more nervous and sweaty than usual, however.

"Eren."  Mikasa stood over him, avoiding eye contact and staring straight ahead.  "Do you think you can eat all these?"

Eren scowled.  "Really, Mikasa?  You don't have to worry about me.  It's just a bunch of chicken nuggets!  Nothing's gonna happen.  Sit down."

"I will finish them if you can't."

"Sit down!"

Armin glanced up from his phone.  "Are you ready?"

Eren nodded solemnly.  Sasha nodded eagerly.  Bertholt nodded sweatily, which according to spellcheck isn't even a word but we can pretend like it is.  No one has to know.

It was hardly surprising that Sasha won within two minutes.

"That's one nugget every six seconds," remarked Armin.  "On average, I mean.  That's taking into consideration the part where she passed out for nearly ten seconds before Connie shoved another nugget in her mouth."

Meanwhile, Eren had actually passed out, or was quite close to doing so.  He had fallen into a nugget coma.  Bertholt was still going strong at thirty nuggets before he finally stopped.

"I could probably eat more," he admitted, "But it wouldn't end too well, I think.  I'd rather avoid that."

Connie slumped on the couch, motionless.  The mere seven nuggets he had eaten had taken their toll.

"This was such a bad idea," he groaned.

Marco, who was laying on the floor, shifted to an upright position, leaning on his arms.  "It was your idea though, wasn't it, Connie...?"

"Yeah...  I don't know why you guys went with it.  I'm pretty stupid so none of my ideas are that great."

Eren stirred from his face-down position on the table to look at Armin.  "Hey, Armin...  This is all your fault."

"Huh?"

"You're the one with all the smarts, right?  You should've known this would happen and tried to stop us."

"Ah...  That's kind of unfair, don't you think?"

With as much agility as he could manage for someone who just consumed way too many nuggets, Eren stood up and made his way towards the hall.  "The only thing that's unfair is that I'll beat you to the bathroom."

Reiner sat up quickly.  "Hey!  If you do anything weird, you're plunging it yourself."

Connie couldn't help but laugh.  "Hey Sasha, how are you holding up?  You don't look so good...  Hahaha, oh man, this is literally the worst.  Let's agree to never listen to my ideas again.  Although...  Have you ever wondered how many people could fit in a shopping cart?"


	2. The Shopping Cart Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans involving shopping carts, Walmart, and some very angry security guards.

"Hey, remember the nugget thing?"  Connie and Sasha sat on the couch in his dorm, engaged in video games.  It was the beginning of spring break and they were kicking it off with their annual 24-hour video game marathon.

"Not really, no," she replied, "Most of it is just this gap in my memory that comes with the taste of processed meat in the back of my throat."

"Ew, gross!"  He laughed.  "Okay, nuggets aside, do you remember what I said right before Eren got sick in the bathroom and pretty much ruined the party?  About how I wondered how many people could fit in a shopping cart?  Well, I've been thinking about it some more, and--"

"Hmm, it depends on the size of the person," interrupted Sasha.  "Are we talking Bert-sized or Annie-sized?"

"I dunno.  Do you want to find out?"

Sasha paused the game and turned to look at Connie, a gleam of devious excitement in her eyes.  "Absolutely."

* * *

 

The willing participants gathered in the student lounge.   All of them were those who had experienced the nugget affair, with the addition of Annie Leonhardt, who had agreed to it for reasons known only to herself.

"So, you want to pile all of us into a shopping cart or something, right?"  Reiner crossed his arms.  It sounded like a bad idea to him--bad, but irresistibly fun.  "Where will we even go that won't kick us out just for being a large group of teens?"

"We'll go to Walmart," said Armin quickly, "I've already thought about that, Reiner.  Walmart has pretty low standards, so no one there is really going to care.  The time right now is good so that the store should be relatively empty.  To avoid suspicion we can go in small groups and meet up somewhere."

Connie nodded eagerly.  "Yeah!"  He didn't have any other input, but he felt he should say something nonetheless.

"I'm surprised you're doing this," Jean remarked, looking at Armin.  "You seem like the kind of guy who would be all like, 'no, that's dumb and probably illegal, let's not do that'."

Armin shrugged, saying nothing.  The inner machinations of his mind were an [enigma](http://i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/655/395/445.gif).

"Fine," scowled Jean, "I'll be the rational one here.  Are we really ready to risk permanent banishment from Walmart and quite possibly arrest?  Is it really worth it?"

"Yes!" said Connie and Eren simultaneously.

Sasha butted in.  "Jean, stop being lame, for real!  All the other kids here are going to be like, 'yeah bruh, I got so wasted over spring break and totally fought a cop, hashtag yolo swag lol' and you have the opportunity to one-up them and have the wildest story ever and you're going to turn it down because you're the hugest weenie in the history of like, forever."

"Totally lame." agreed Eren.  Armin snickered.

"I--" Jean could feel his face turning red.  "Fine.  Fine!  I'll do it, whatever."

* * *

The Walmart was mostly empty, like Armin had predicted, and the group met in a section removed from the wary eyes of staff.

"Okay," began Connie, somewhat apprehensive, "I know the original plan was to just shove a bunch of people in a cart, but what if we had cart races?"

"Wait, sorry, I'm confused," Eren said, "You mean like, racing with a bunch of people in a cart?"

"Absolutely, we could--"

"Hang on," interrupted Armin, "That sounds like a really big hospital bill.  Let's just have one person in the cart, okay?"

Admittedly, Connie hadn't thought things through very well.  His initial plan was one that, in his opinion, probably didn't require a whole lot of thinking through: go to Walmart, sit in some shopping carts, and avoid consequences.  Everyone was looking at him now; with a twinge of surprise, he realized they considered him the leader of this whole operation.

"Um, yeah, that sounds better," he stammered, and then, in an attempt to take charge, "Let's split up into teams.  I think it would be easiest if each team had a short person on it, and then a taller person to push."

Teams were quickly and easily decided: Sasha would push Connie (he promised her lunch if they won), Mikasa would push Eren (a brief debate over which of the two would push ensued, until Eren was reminded of exactly who had won the ab contest), Reiner would push Armin (they were stuck together, as Mikasa had already called dibs on Eren, but Armin trusted Reiner and didn't mind), Berthold would push Annie (he seemed slightly more nervous than usual about this, although it was hard to tell), and Jean would push Marco.  Jean and Marco were the last ones left and an obvious team, but it was difficult determining who should push and who should ride.  They were close in height and strength, but Jean's competitive nature gave him an advantage, and so he was designated as the pusher.

Once in the cart, Armin fidgeted nervously.  "There's only so much time we have before security comes after us," he said to no one in particular.  "They'll be really mad, I'm certain."

"Hey, are you really so worried about that?" grinned Reiner, leaning over the bar of the cart to give Armin a reassuring yet harsh pat on the back.  "The worst that's gonna happen is we get a warning and give them something to talk about, right?  It won't be that bad."

Armin smiled weakly.  "Thanks, Reiner," he replied, although part of himself was starting to regret taking part in these shenanigans.  With Reiner's brawn, he would probably be propelled through the wall on the other side of the store in two seconds flat.  "Wait," he said suddenly, clambering out of the cart.  "Wait, let's...  We should put on helmets, maybe."

Everyone groaned.

"Come on, Armin," whined Sasha,  "That's so lame.  Don't you trust Reiner?"

"No," said Mikasa suddenly, "Armin is right."

Eren and Armin ended up being the only ones in helmets.  Armin felt much more secure; Eren, who was forced into one, felt like a huge loser.

The helmets had naturally come from the aisle selling bicycles.  Armin had chosen an obnoxious, glitter-encrusted bright purple helmet.  After extensive label-reading, he had determined it was the safest one.  The glitter itself added at least an inch of additional padding.  As tacky as it was, it would look a lot better than a concussion would feel.

("Wait, try this one," Reiner had said, holding up a [helmet with a soft plastic mohawk](http://raskullz.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/pirate.jpg), "The fierce design will intimidate our opponents."

"Yeah, you'd definitely win with that thing, but only because everyone else would be too busy laughing at how ridiculous it would look on him," retorted Eren.)

By the time everything was all done and settled, everyone had grown impatient.

"Are we finally ready?" whined Jean.  "Why does Eren even need a helmet?  His head's hard enough as it is."

Sasha impatiently drummed her fingers on the bar of the shopping cart.  "Yes, we're ready!  Let's just get on with it!"

Connie braced himself in the cart.  "On the count of three!  One...  Two..."

Before he could finish counting, Reiner took off, a bundle of nerves.  The cart slipped from his hands and sure enough, enough force was provided to send Armin rocketing through the aisle and out of the automated doors on the other side of the store.  His screams were muted as the sliding doors closed behind him.

"Well," said Reiner, "Armin's dead."

Everyone was quiet for a really long time until finally, Connie stammered, "Uh, three."

The competitive natures of those pushing the carts overruled the lingering shock of Armin's fate, and the race began.

Right off the bat, Jean found himself struggling.  He was strong, but he had the heaviest passenger--despite this, he had managed to pull ahead and take the lead.

A sudden impact sent the cart toppling sideways, spilling Marco out onto the floor.

"Sorry, Marco!" yelled Sasha as she ran by.  She didn't look very sorry.

"Hey, hey!  That's cheating!" yelled Jean angrily.  He turned to Reiner.  "Aren't you going to call foul?"

Reiner was useless without a passenger, and so he had been standing to the side, looking at his hands in shock.  Too much power was contained in those hands.  Just moments ago, he had held Armin's life in them--Armin, who had trusted him so much, and who was now dead because of his actions.  His hands now held regret and guilt.

His amber eyes lifted from his trembling fingers to meet Jean's intense gaze.  "There is no order here," he said.  "Win or lose, live or die...  It doesn't matter.  This place is lawless.  We are governed only by the laws of pain."

"I--What the heck, Reiner?"

 Berthold and Annie had taken the lead due to Bert's unnaturally long legs, but Mikasa, who was composed of willpower and numerous outstanding high school track records, was quickly gaining on them.  Bert made the mistake of looking back at her.  There was an unmistakable fire burning in her dark eyes that made his heart drop; his nerves failed him and he found himself stumbling and falling, knocking several macaroni boxes off of a display in the process.  Everyone had already whizzed past him by the time he managed to pick all six feet and four inches of himself up off the ground.

In one last act of desperation, Bert shoved the cart with all his strength.  His power was enhanced by his desperation, and this desperation, combined with Annie's light weight, sent the cart flying at an incredible speed.  It rammed into the back of Sasha, sending her falling to the ground as Connie and the shopping cart continued moving.

"Sasha!" yelled Connie, but at that moment the cart took a sharp turn left, running directly into a display of boxes of crackers.  The impact threw Connie backwards so that he was laying in the cart, and the shock of it was so great that laying there was all he could do as boxes tumbled onto him.

Alerted by the noise of carnage behind them, Eren twisted around in the cart to survey the scene.  "Mikasa," he said, "We're the only ones left.  Everyone else is down!"

She slowed down.  They had reached the designated finish line and thus their victory was secured.

Berthold was clearing the boxes off of Connie and apologizing profusely to both him and Sasha, who was being attended to by Reiner.  She had scraped up her arm when she fell, but Reiner always carried spare bandages.  He looked up from the wound as Eren and Mikasa rejoined the group.

"You won!" he said, smiling broadly.  "Congratulations!"

The group took care to replace the displays, and seeing as how they had yet to be kicked out of Walmart, they decided to see if Berthold could fit into a shopping cart.

"I really don't think I can," he said nervously, but he climbed in the basket anyway, wedging himself in with some assistance.  It was very uncomfortable and he was about to request that he be helped out when an angry shout sounded from the end of the aisle.

"Hey!  What do you think you're doing?"  The air of authority and the pretentious bolo tie that the man possessed indicated he held the position of manager.  His intense eyebrows furrowed together, dramatically amplifying his expression of irritation.

"Um," said Bert quickly, "Can I maybe--"

"Run!" yelled Sasha.

"Um!" said Bert again, louder and more panicked, and Reiner grabbed his cart (being very careful not to let go) and made a break for the exit.

The manager was beyond livid.  He looked like he was out for blood and would not rest until he got it.  He broke into a swift sprint and grabbed his radio.

"We have a situation in aisle three, requesting security immediately--"

Connie let out a long string of expletives as they ran.  "We're going to die!" he wailed.  He could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes.  There was a certain chance of them ending up in prison, he was sure, and prison did not have good food.  This was not what his parents wanted for him.

"You're an idiot," replied Annie, unimpressed by both his theatrics and the entire situation at hand.

The automated doors that beckoned death and uncertainty for Armin seemed to be a beacon of hope now, and as the group burst through them, the sunlight and warm spring air embraced them and made their freedom a reality.  They kept running, however--a good thing too, as a moment later, Manager Eyebrows and a squad of angry security guards ran out of the store.

"Into the cars!" yelled Jean.  "Go!"

"Reiner," began Berthold, very nervous and very sweaty, "How--"

He was interrupted when Reiner hoisted him up, shopping cart and all, and tossed him into the bed of his truck.

"Sorry!"

* * *

"Honestly that was the worst thing ever and all of Connie's ideas suck."  Jean crossed his arms.  They were back in the student lounge.  Sasha stood by the window watching for cops.

Reiner, who had sprawled across the entirety of a sofa, sat up suddenly.  "Holy crap, we left Armin there."

Mikasa looked alarmed.  "We have to go get him."

"No way!" exclaimed Connie firmly.  "We can't go back there.  Besides, he's gone.  You saw the way he flew out of the store."

Everyone was quiet for a long time until Berthold finally spoke up.  "Can someone help me out of this cart?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Armin isn't actually dead, as he was wearing a helmet. Props to you for safety, Armin!


	3. Double Date, Plus Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie invites Reiner and Berthold on a double date to the movies with him and Sasha. Featuring self-indulgent unestablished Reibert because I'm trash, Springles, and Armin as an oblivious third wheel.

"Hey, Reiner.  Reiner!"

Reiner Braun had been walking to class when someone called his name.  He looked up from his phone to see Connie running towards him.

"Hey Con, what's up?"

"Sasha and I are going on a movie date tomorrow and wanted to know if you and Bert would want to come along."

Reiner raised an eyebrow as he and Connie entered their classroom.  They were very early, the first ones in the room.  "A date?  Me and Berthold?"

"You sound confused, why do you sound confused," frowned Connie.  "You guys are a thing, right?"

"No, no, it's not like that."  Reiner laughed nervously.  There was a moment of awkward silence, until finally, "Do you think we could be?"

Connie slugged Reiner's arm, grinning broadly.  "You're totally into him!  I knew it!  Dude, you have to come with us.  It'll be the perfect opportunity to put the moves on him, y'know?  Sneak in there all slick-like, pull the ol' popcorn bucket hand-touch.  Classic."

Reiner took the confident gleam in Connie's eyes with a grain of salt.  Just thinking about the whole thing made him nervous--it would be too weird, he thought, since he and Berthold were roommates and childhood friends.  On the other hand, Connie was definitely right in saying that a movie date would be the perfect opportunity.  It could easily pass as a casual outing and something as small as the popcorn bucket hand-touch would serve as a sort of low-key test to judge Bert's reaction.  Whether or not he would agree to go depended on one thing:

"What movie is it, anyway?"

"Oh!  I should've said that earlier.  It's the new _Avengers_ movie."

At that moment, the door to the classroom opened.  "The new _Avengers_ movie?  Are you guys going to go see it?"  The person who had entered was none other than Armin Arlert.  He sat down next to them.

"Hey man, what's up?  Yeah, we're going to go see it.  It's a double--"

"Wow, no way!  I've been wanting to see that movie since before it came out.  Can I go with you?"

"Um."  Connie hesitated.  It was supposed to be a date thing and Armin wasn't dating anyone, but he seemed so enthusiastic about it that rejection seemed impossible.  "Yeah, sure."

Armin's eyes lit up.  "Oh wow, thanks a lot!  Gee, this is so great, I'm really excited."

"Uh, yeah.  Yeah, it'll be great."

* * *

Reiner was nervous about the whole thing for a number of reasons, the first and foremost being the obvious date with Berthold, and the second being that listening to Connie's ideas never turned out well--or, they hadn't more recently, at least. But this wasn't anything crazy like eating a large number of nuggets or racing in shopping carts. It was a movie date. People did it all the time. Movie dates were particularly easy and straightforward in that they could hardly be considered a date because the participants sat in silence without being expected to look or talk to each other. That is to say, movie dates rarely went wrong as far as he knew. It would be fine.

The more pressing matter was a date with Berthold. A date. With Berthold. The thought of it sent Reiner into a cold sweat. Of course, he wouldn't tell Berthold it was supposed to be a date. They did stuff together all the time as bros. Movie nights, mini-golf, Smash competitions, Taco Tuesdays... To be fair, Reiner secretly pretended that all of those were dates.

He was so desperate and so gay it was painful. He had to make a move sometime soon.

"Of course I'll go see the movie with you," said Berthold when he was asked. Bert couldn't figure out why Reiner even bothered asking or why he seemed a bit flustered about it--it was pretty much a given that if one of them did something, the other was there by default. He figured the nervousness came from the fact that they were going with Connie and Sasha, and since Connie and Sasha were a thing, people might think they were too, or maybe that Reiner was worried that Bert would think it would be a date.

"It's definitely not a date," said Reiner three hours later as he was doing pushups on the floor. "Just... Just so you know. It's like, come to the movies with me, but no homo. No homo, just bromo, right?"

Berthold raised an eyebrow. "Er, right."

* * *

 

Armin sat in the middle seat of Reiner's pickup truck, squashed between him and Berthold. They had agreed to give him a ride on the condition that he sat in the middle--even if he hadn't agreed, they would've made him anyway, as the general rule was that the smallest person had to squeeze in between the others.

Reiner was fond of Armin in the way that he considered himself to be a sort of older-brother figure to the kid. Despite this fondness he wasn't too keen on having Armin along, even though having him there meant there wasn't a weird silence for the entirety of the drive.

"I'm super excited," said Armin for the seventh time since he'd gotten in the vehicle. "I heard from somewhere that there are a lot of political undertones and a lot of fancy camerawork that's really symbolic and stuff--or was that a different movie? I actually think that was a different movie, sorry. Yeah, it was definitely different. I can't remember what it's called, but I read that the ending is a real doozy, I read that--"

He kept babbling. Reiner had tuned him out awhile ago, responding only with appropriately placed neutral noises, along with the occasional "yeah".

He glanced at Berthold out of the corner of his eye. Bert had turned away from him and Armin to look out the window, and Reiner mentally ran through the game plan in his mind as Armin rambled.

"Yeah, y'know, you could be right," he said to Armin as he pulled into a parking space at the movie theater. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens in the movie, huh?"

* * *

 

Connie and Sasha greeted them with enthusiastic waves after they had all gotten their tickets.

"You guys go ahead and find some good seats," said Reiner. "Berthold and I will get the popcorn and stuff."

Connie winked at Reiner. "You and Berthold, huh?"

Reiner clamped his hand down on Connie's head and spun him around in the direction of where the movie would be. "Get a move on, baldy. All the seats will be taken if you don't step it up, yeah?"

"What was that about?" asked Berthold after Connie, Sasha, and Armin had left. Reiner shrugged.

"Honestly, who knows? Connie's a strange little man. What's even stranger is how long this line is taking. What's up with that?"

"Ah, it looks like there's only one person working at the counter." Berthold could see clearly over the heads of everyone else in front of them. "And there's a lady up there with a small army of kids. She's trying to get them all situated. It's a mess, really.  I feel bad for her."

Reiner crossed his arms and made a noncommital grunt. "Well, we're not in a big rush. The movie starts in half an hour and we're getting our seats saved, so it's whatever. I just hope they found good seats."

Meanwhile, Armin was in the process of finding good seats. There was already a handful of people in the theater and more were filing in. It was a race against time to find the holy grail of movie theater seats.

Armin's eyes flitted across the rows. Ideally, he would be seated in the very middle of the very middle, which would provide an even distribution of sound and the perfect distance away from the screen.

"Alright," said Sasha. "Sherlock here is taking way too long. I'm gonna hit up the bathroom while he's doing... Whatever it is he's doing. I'll be back, alright?" And with that, she ducked out of the theater to find the bathrooms.

"Connie, I found it," said Armin excitedly. "Come on!"

Motioning for Connie to follow him, he made a beeline towards what he had deemed to be the perfect seat.

"Yes," he said as he claimed it as his own. "This has got to be the best seat in the whole entire theater."

"Yup, it sure is great." Connie didn't see what the big deal was. It was just a seat. He sat down next to Armin in what was probably the second best seat in the whole entire theater.

Someone sat down next to him.

"Oh, hey, sorry, do you mind? I'm saving that seat for someone, she's in the bathroom."

The occupant of the seat, a surly-looking middle-aged woman, raised a penciled-in eyebrow at him. "Don't see your name written on it, kid."

"Rude," muttered Connie, but he could tell she wasn't going to budge, and she looked like a formiddable person to cross. He couldn't fight her even if he tried. He could smell her hairspray--it protected her head like a helmet, and her manicured, brightly painted, probably fake nails could easily gouge out his eyes. She was scary. She was the kind of woman who would demand to see the manager if her soda wasn't carbonated enough. He looked away from her quickly. Gazing upon her visage for too long would certainly mean bad luck.

A few minutes passed, and Sasha returned from the bathroom. "What's this?" she said as she saw the seating arrangements, clearly disappointed that both seats next to Connie were taken. Confused, she gestured at the woman. Connie replied with a slitting-throat gesture and a nod towards the woman, and Sasha nodded in understanding.

"Hey Armin," she said sweetly, sitting down next to him and placing her hand gently on his shoulder, "Do you think maybe I could sit there? I was _really_ looking forward to sitting next to Connie."

Armin frowned. "This is the best seat. I worked hard for this, I can't just give it up because you want to sit next to Connie. Maybe he could move over to my other side, and then you could sit next to him?"

As soon as he said that, a family filed into the row, taking several of the seats next to Sasha. She was trapped. Armin refused to move. There was nothing they could do.

Connie shrugged at her in resignation, but then, "Oh crap, we forgot about saving for Bert and Reiner!"

Sasha's eyes widened and she turned quickly towards the person that had sat next to her. It was a younger child, maybe eight or nine years old, and he aggressively sipped his juice box. Sasha couldn't help but marvel at the aggressiveness of this kid's sipping, especially since aggression and juice boxes didn't really go together, but she wasn't sure what she expected from a third grader who wore a "cool story babe" muscle shirt.

Whatever. It was harsh of her to judge someone based on appearance when their mom probably still picked out their outfits. Sasha felt pretty confident; she was really great with kids.

"Hey there, sweetie," she said, turning towards the kid and looking as non-threatening as possible. "Can you get your mom for me?"

"No," said the kid curtly, still sipping his juice box.

"Oh. Um, well, see, it's just that our friends are getting popcorn and we told them we'd save them some seats, so I was wondering if maybe you guys would be willing to scoot down a little? We just need two spaces."

He put his juice box in the cup holder. "No. I don't have to take orders from ugly ladies." It was then that Sasha noticed he was using both armrests. The nerve!

"Listen here you little punk--" growled Sasha, leaning in.

"Excuse me!" said a very loud man who could only be the kid's father. "Ma'am, is there a problem?"

"Yeah. Yeah, there is," said Sasha, who was sufficiently ticked off. "Did you raise your son to be a disrespectful brat?" She practically spat the last word.

The kid kicked her in the shin.

"Hey! Did you--did you see that?"

"Atta boy!" grinned the father.

Sasha was seriously reconsidering her rules of never punching a kid.

"Hey, look man," snarled Connie, leaning over Armin and twisting his face into the most intimidating expression he could manage, "I don't know what your problem is, but even though my girlfriend won't punch your kid in the face like he deserves, that doesn't mean I won't."

The father stood up. "Just you try it, shrimp, you wanna fight?"

Connie didn't want to fight. The man was twice his height. It would've ended badly, had Reiner and Berthold not shown up.

Reiner and Berthold were intimidating to pretty much anyone that didn't know them. Reiner had the broad shoulders and confidence of a varsity football player and Berthold, though more lean in physique, stood a head taller than anyone else at any given moment. They fixed cold eyes on the man aggressing Connie. Berthold waved to Connie, making it clear that they knew each other. There was a brief showdown of eye contact before the man finally sat down.

Sasha was shaking with anger. "Connie," she whispered, "Can we switch seats maybe?"

There was an awkward shuffling as they did so. Armin sat uncomfortably in the middle.

"Don't worry about us, we'll find different seats," said Berthold as he passed the popcorn to Sasha. It was an uncomfortable procedure involving squeezing past several people and reaching over the middle-aged woman, who looked very disgruntled.

By that time, mostly every seat in the theater had filled up. Those that weren't filled were only single seats. Berthold pointed out two seats towards the front.

"There, let's sit over there."

They only had to squeeze past a few people to get to the seats, but as soon as they had settled in, someone tapped Berthold on the shoulder. He turned around, and Reiner turned too.

"I'm so sorry," said a woman who looked very tired. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but... Do you think you could maybe sit somewhere else? Um, my son and I, we can't, um... You're blocking a lot of the screen, sorry."

Her son was a toddler, and he looked at Bert with wide eyes. "You're really big!"

"Yeah," said Bert to the toddler, unsure of what else to say. "Sorry about that ma'am, we really should've considered... Um, sorry, really sorry, we'll move. Sorry."

The woman smiled gratefully as they shuffled back out of the row. The theater was now even more full than it had been originally.

"Hm..." Reiner surveyed the rows of seats. "There are two open in the very back, we'll have to sit there."

The very back. Reiner felt very self-conscious as they quickly made their way up there. The back was where high-schoolers sat when they wanted to do nothing but make out for the whole movie. It was an embarrassing and awful place to sit.

They settled in awkwardly, Reiner a bundle of nerves as he gripped the popcorn bucket. The lights dimmed, the mandatory reminder to silence cell phones was played, and the movie began.

Sasha and Connie were feeling pretty miserable. Connie was trying to ignore the very loud way in which the kid next to him was eating his candy (he was certain the kid was eating loudly just to spite him). As a way of showing this kid who was boss, Connie had put his arm on the armrest. That was one privilege he wouldn't let go to that brat. That was one victory for Connie. Sasha, in the meantime, was still relatively upset that she wasn't sitting next to Connie, but she was very grateful to be away from the kid. Even though the middle-aged lady was scary, she was actually pleasant to sit next to--pleasant meaning she had the decency to be quiet during the movie and not kick other people.

Sasha snickered to herself as she thought of the perfect joke to go along with something that had just happened in the movie. By instinct, she leaned over to whisper it to Connie, only to remember that Armin was there between them. She had already leaned over so it would've been awkward to not say anything, so she told her joke to him.

"Shhhh," he whispered, "Can you try to be quiet during the movie?"

Sasha leaned back. Leave it to Armin to be Captain Buzzkill. Maybe if she got Connie's attention, she could mouth it to him. They were pretty good at reading each other's lips.

"Connie!" she whispered, but she was promptly hushed by Armin.

She tried waving to him next, but he was busy keeping one eye on the movie and the other eye on the kid, who had taken to kicking the seat in front of him. Even though it wasn't Connie's seat that was being kicked, it was still getting on his nerves and doing nothing to alleviate his desires to clock the kid in the nose.

Sasha took a piece of popcorn and lobbed it at Connie. It hit him in the ear. Surprised, he turned towards her, giving her a look and a gesture that was somewhere between "what the heck are you doing" and "are you kidding me". She was about to mouth the joke to him when he noticed with a great deal of alarm that, when he was distracted with his gestures, the juvenile delinquent next to him had placed his arm squarely on the armrest--on _Connie's_ armrest.

They spent the next few minutes in a heated and silent armrest battle, each nudging the other sharply until Connie planted his arm on it and refused to move. The kid eventually gave up, probably to plot his revenge, but Connie was ready. He wasn't going to lose to anyone.

After a solid 45 minutes had passed, Reiner was finally ready to initiate step one of his subtle flirting plan. The 45 minutes had been spent in a frantic mental preparation until finally, he was so tired of worrying about it that he resolved to do the popcorn-bucket-hand-touch trick the next time Berthold reached for the popcorn.

Berthold reached for the popcorn. As nonchalantly as a guy in this situation could be, Reiner also reached for the popcorn.

_Be cool, Braun_ , he thought, staring intensely at Bert through the corners of his eyes. _Be cool. Go for the hand. Easy does it..._

There! Successful contact made! Reiner's eyes flicked back to the screen, but when he got the courage to look at Bert again, Bert was still watching the movie, completely unphased. Clearly he thought the brushing of the hands was purely coincidental.

Dang. He had done so well to no avail, but the success in itself was enough to set Reiner's heart racing. He'd done the hand touch. He'd done it! He surged with courage; he felt certain that step two of his plan could be successfully pulled off, but only after at least one startling plot twist. These things had to be staggered out so it wouldn't get too weird.

"I like your shirt," whispered the kid who sat next to Connie.

"That's a lie and you know it," whispered Connie viciously. "The only thing you like is the pain of others."

The kid ignored his comment. "I bet you like your shirt too. Is it a concert shirt? It looks like it's from a concert. It must have been expensive. It would be a shame if someone... spilled something on it, don't you think?" His hand hovered near the extra-large slushie his father had gotten up mid-movie to buy for him.

"Oh, two can play at that game, you little snot," sneered Connie. He rested his hand around his own drink. "You can take me down but you can bet your disgusting, misogynistic shirt that I will not hesitate to bring you down with me."

The kid brought his straw up to his mouth and took a sip, never once taking his eyes off of Connie's.

"Whoops!" he said, tilting his cup towards Connie.

It was just a bluff, but Connie had been on edge ever since he'd sat next to this kid, and without thinking, he dumped the contents of his cup all over the kid.

He made a loud noise and stood up quickly, soda running down his awful muscle shirt and dripping off his khaki shorts.

"Well, heck." said Connie as he realized he had jumped the gun, so to speak. The father stood up, fixed Connie with a death glare, and roughly grabbed the kid's arm, dragging him out of the theater. Connie sank into his seat.

He glanced over at Armin and Sasha. Armin was so absorbed in the movie that he hadn't even noticed anything. Sasha was doubled over in laughter, a hand clamped over her mouth so she wouldn't make any noise. He sank lower into his seat.

A startling plot twist happened. Step two of Reiner's plan was ready for action. He feigned a yawn and stretched, slowly bringing his arm down around Berthold's shoulder. Berthold had just picked up his soda to take a drink. Due to personal preference, it didn't have a plastic lid on it, and he was so alarmed at Reiner's sudden advance that he dropped the soda, spilling it all over his lap. He and Reiner swore at the same time; some of it also spilled on Reiner, and he jolted forward, whacking Bert in the back of the head with the arm that he had set around his shoulder. As Bert jolted forward from that impact, his arm knocked into Reiner's drink, spilling it all over him.

It was like a train wreck. They both stood up, whispering profuse apologies to each other, and, soaking wet, practically sprinted towards the bathroom. They passed the kid and his father in the hallway headed back towards the theater.

Berthold and Reiner burst into laughter as soon as they entered the bathroom. There was no one else in there and so they weren't embarrassed to laugh until they had to gasp for air.

"I guess we should clean up," said Reiner, still smiling broadly and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But dude, that whole thing was totally crazy, like something out of a movie or a poorly-written short story."

Berthold nodded and shoved some paper towels at Reiner. They stuck to his damp shirt and they exploded into laughter again.

"This is so ridiculous," chortled Reiner as he tried to soak up the soda with the paper towels, although the most ridiculous thing about it was the use of the word "chortled".

Berthold scrubbed Reiner's arm with a damp paper towel. "You'll be sticky if you don't use water too," he said, "Especially since so much of it spilled on your arm." He was quiet for a moment. "Although, thinking about it now, what were you doing with your arm?"

Reiner stuck a paper towel to Berthold's shirt. "Really, you're thinking about that when we're sopping wet? Let's focus on cleaning up, right?"

Bert frowned. "Let's focus on how you're dodging the question."

"Huh? There's nothing to dodge." Reiner could feel himself getting flustered. He was certain his face was bright red. "I just yawned, was all. You were there, you saw me yawn, probably."

"Yeah, but the arm thing. The arm thing, Reiner, what was that about?"

"I yawned! People stretch when they yawn! I'm one of the people who does that, so sue me!"

"I'm not an idiot, I know that's some kind of cheesy thing people do when they're trying to lay the moves on someone." Berthold was offended--not so much that Reiner was trying to lay the moves on him, but that he wasn't being honest. "You said no homo," he said with a small smile.

Reiner sighed and turned his eyes toward the tile floor, studying the drops of soda that had fallen on it. "Full homo, dude. I lied."

Bert nodded slowly. "There it is. Let's get cleaned up and enjoy the rest of the movie. We can talk about this at home, alright? Don't try to skirt around anything though, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

 

The rest of the movie was relatively uneventful. The kid next to Connie was quiet, having accepted defeat. Armin stopped being a stick in the mud long enough for Sasha to lean over and whisper her joke to Connie, which, while being long overdue, was still funny. Reiner was embarrassed and still damp when he and Bert took their seats again. As he reached into the popcorn bucket, Bert's hand brushed against his, and he glanced up in time to see Bert smile at him before turning his attention back to the movie. He felt slightly less embarrassed and a little more hopeful.

In the end, Armin was the only one who actually payed any attention to the movie itself.

"Did you like the movie, Armin?" asked Sasha.

"It was okay," he replied. "Not really what I expected from it."

Reiner laughed. "After all that fuss you made about going to go see it, and all you have to say is it was okay? You're really something, kid."

"Connie, would you mind taking Armin home?" Berthold placed his hand on top of Armin's head. "He looks a bit tired and Reiner and I were going to go out for ice cream. We'd feel really bad keeping him out so late if we took him with us, and Mikasa instructed us not to give him sugar past ten."

"Yeah, sure," laughed Connie. "Have a good one, guys, have fun with your ice cream."

"Seeing the movie was Connie's idea, you know," said Reiner as they climbed into his truck. "So I was kind of worried about doing it since all his ideas end up being weird, like the nugget thing, right? But I was like, how wrong can going to the movies go? Pretty wrong, apparently. What I'm saying here is that the bad luck happened just because Connie was involved." He was quiet for a moment. "Listening to Connie's ideas never turns out well," he said, "But I think this one turned out pretty good, all things considered." 


	4. Incidents at the Amusement Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Armin's first time on a rollercoaster, a Very Large Pikachu, and Bertholdt's shocking secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is also a deleted scene I wrote that will be published as the next chapter. It had an inconsistency (involving Pikachu) that made it unlikely to happen, but it was too funny to take out entirely.

"Hey Connie, thanks for the tickets. It's gonna be a blast."

"Yeah, no problem, Eren. My aunt works here so they were free and I'm the only one in my family who would take them."

The sun was hot, the smell of asphalt, sunscreen, and overpriced funnel cakes filled the air, and the sounds of chatter and the screams of innocent people set the mood for the ultimate in summer vacation fun: the amusement park.

The amusement park in question was the largest and the most popular in the state, featuring three notoriously scary rollercoasters, thirty-seven rigged arcade games and attractions, an extensive waterpark, at least two hundred rowdy kids at any given moment, five different restaurants in which a semi-decent meal would cost an arm and a leg (and later, a trip to the bathroom), and one massive Ferris wheel that could be seen as far as eight miles away from the park on a clear day.

The group consisted of Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Connie, Sasha, Jean, Marco, Reiner, Berthold, and Annie. Eren was particularly excited--he hadn't been to the park since he was five years old and it was the first year that his ban from the little incident he'd had had been lifted. Armin was brimming with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was his first time ever going to an amusement park, and the rollercoasters... Well, they looked scary, simply put. The physics behind them was terrifying.

The group stayed clumped together for a few more minutes, chattering excitedly, then broke up into smaller groups.

"You guys see that big blue rollercoaster over there?" said Eren, pointing to the big blue rollercoaster over there, "We're riding that one first. That one is the scariest one in the whole park."

Armin hesitated. "I spent a lot of time reading about these rollercoasters last night," he said nervously. "Apparently that one doesn't even touch the track. It's held on by magnets. I mean, magnets are really great, and I don’t doubt their ability to hold the lives of several dozen people at a time, but, well... And look at that older rollercoaster over there, it caught on fire last summer and it's still open. Fire, Eren! Fire!"

Eren waved Armin's words away with his hand. "Psht, please. It's best to ride the scariest ones first, that way all the other ones are less scary. Right, Mikasa?"

Mikasa said nothing. Her dark eyes were fixated on the older rollercoaster. She was very interested in the idea of it catching on fire. "Why would it still be open?" she mumbled. "Armin, how much of it caught on fire?"

"Uh, only part of the track, I think. It wasn't a car or anything. No one was hurt."

She nodded.

"Hey, will you guys get over that rollercoaster fire thing? It's fine, they've fixed it up so that it doesn't happen again, alright? We're here to have fun, not worry about safety hazards."

"This whole park is just a huge liability," sulked Armin. "The fine print on the back of the tickets says that the park isn't to blame for any injury or death that occurs. But you're right; it's just a risk we have to take."

"That's the spirit!"

The line was dreadfully long. It seemed silly to Armin that they should have to stand around for twenty minutes just to ride something that only lasted one or two minutes and made your insides feel like they were being scrambled, but that was just part of the experience, he guessed. Standing in lines, sunburn, dealing with gaudy decorations... It was part of the novelty.

He felt a sense of dread as they approached the beginning of the line. The screams got louder. It was real.

"Is it too late to turn back now?" he stammered when they were next to go. It was probably too late.

"It's probably too late," Mikasa replied.

Eren clapped Armin on the back. "Trial by fire! I believe in you!"

"Thanks," he murmured weakly, although the word "fire" did nothing to assuage his fears. (It's the other one that caught on fire, he reminded himself.) He wondered if the butterflies in his stomach believed in him with the same conviction as Eren. It hardly seemed likely.

The rollercoaster jolted to a halt in front of them and the people in the cars filed out to the other side, chatting shakily with each other. Armin stared at the empty car with dismay. There was no point in trying to put it off. It would only take a minute and a half. It was a very short ride.

He clambered in after Mikasa and sat between her and Eren. He was less likely to fall out of the sides when sitting between them. Armin tightened the belt as tight as was comfortable and lowered the guard, making sure to triple-check each. He fidgeted with his nubby ponytail. Would it fall out, he wondered, and considered taking it out, but then his hair would get messed up. It was better to just leave it in.

Armin tightened his grip on the lap guard as the announcer went over procedure. They were to keep their hands and feet inside at all times and stuff like that, and enjoy the ride.

The ride was famous for propelling its victims out backwards at an incredible acceleration, going through a series of loops and hills before climbing a very tall vertical incline. The cars would decelerate towards the top, eventually coming to a complete stop until gravity took command and pulled the cars back down again, repeating the course but going forwards.

With a sudden jolt, the ride lurched backwards. Armin felt like he wanted to scream but all the air had been ripped from his lungs. It took him a moment to catch his breath and even then it seemed impossible with the strange pressure on his chest. He had closed his eyes, having heard it was better that way, but he ventured a very curious peek. To his surprise, despite the watering of his eyes and the way it made it seem harder to breathe, he preferred to keep his eyes open during the ride.

With some difficulty, Armin turned to look at Eren. Eren's eyes were wide and Armin became aware that he was screaming bloody murder, something that hadn't been apparent at first due to the overwhelming chorus of shrill cries.

The sensation of being pulled backwards up the vertical incline was a curious one. Even more curious was looking down at the ground from so high up at such an angle, and then charging back towards the ground, slowly at first, but with increasing velocity. He felt like a hawk diving for prey. He felt free.

It was over in too short a period of time.

"That was incredible!" gushed Armin. He was still shaky from the ride, and that shakiness coupled with his excitement made it impossible for him to stand still. "Let's do it again!"

Eren looked frazzled. "Let's not. We got it out of the way, no need to do it again."

The passage that led out conveniently went by the booth selling photos taken on the ride.

"That one's us," said Mikasa, pointing to a photo displayed on a screen. It had the horribly tacky border, as all rollercoaster photos do, and the picture displayed Armin sitting in the middle, grinning like a madman, with a stony-faced Mikasa on one side and a wide-eyed Eren gripping the bar so tightly his knuckles were white on the other.

Armin snickered as he bought the picture. "What's wrong, Eren, I thought you said you liked rollercoasters."

"We were five the last time we came here," said Mikasa. "The last rollercoaster he rode was the kiddy one with a single, gently-sloping hill."

"Don't tell him that!" Eren hissed, snatching the picture out of Armin's grasp. Armin burst into laughter, earning a solid slug in the shoulder. "It's not funny! Um, sorry for punching you though."

 

* * *

 

 

Connie and Sasha headed straight for the arcade. It was a beautiful place, beckoning with the friendly glow of flashing neon lights, the melodic screaming of kids running from frazzled parents, the amiable stitched-on smiles of oversized stuffed animals of vague species... It was the best kind of wonderland, one that was easy to "step right up" into to "try your luck and skill" and leave with cheap, mass-produced prizes and deep feelings of regret.

"It's kind of a pain, really," said Connie. "Like seriously, you waste a bunch of money to get a giant stuffed animal and then you have to spend the rest of the time carrying it around. It just gets in the way."

Sasha raised her eyebrows. "Okay, but consider this: giant Pikachu."

"Ooh, yeah, you have a point."

And then, as if on cue, they emerged: a row of giant Pikachu, lined up majestically, establishing their dominance over the infamous ladder-climbing game. Large black eyes stared down any daring challengers; under the oppressive gaze, aspiring ladder-climbers fell to defeat below, landing on the inflated safety pad that smelled of hot plastic and shame.

"Giant Pikachu," whispered Connie in awe. "It's so beautiful... Sasha, I think I'm crying. There's a little tear in the corner of my eye, look, see?"

"Gross, I'm not looking at your weird eye juices!" Sasha pushed Connie away. "Besides, I only have eyes for that Pikachu. I'm breaking up with you. Pikachu is my new boyfriend."

"If you want to win Pikachu's heart, you must first win Pikachu," replied Connie, secretly wondering if Sasha was really breaking up with him. "Here's a bet: if you can climb that ladder and win that Pikachu in one go, I'll pay for all the arcade games and also lunch. If you lose... You have to... Um..."

"Okay, well, I'm not going to lose, so you don't have to worry about it. I played basketball in high school so this’ll be a breeze for me.”

Connie wasn’t sure what playing basketball in high school had to do with anything, but his sense of confusion was fleeting as he watched Sasha strut up to the game and proudly thrust her money at the amused attendant.

“Connie!” she yelled, “Stop standing there gawking and come be my cheerleader!”

“Man, do I _look_ like a cheerleader to you?” But he ran over anyway and waved invisible pom-poms. “Let’s go Sasha, I believe in you! Go and get that giant Pikachu!” He ended the awkward chant with lots of arm-waving and an attempt at doing the splits while he jumped. It didn’t work very well.

Sasha declined to comment and turned her attention towards the rope ladder. It was the only obstacle standing (or, in this case, hanging precariously) between her and the Glory of the Pikachu. Yes, this task was one requiring a delicate finesse: to do it properly, her weight would have to be distributed evenly on the sides to achieve the desired balance. Sasha had always been good at balancing. She liked to think it was a good skill to have, especially if she ever needed to do something acrobatic, something involving shifting her weight while flying through the air to avoid, say, trees or other obstacles with reaching hands and giant teeth… But that was ridiculous and would never happen, and she couldn’t imagine having a very good time in whatever crazy universe that kind of thing would be possible in.

“Yeah!” cheered Connie. “Go Sasha! Yeah! Get Pikachu!”

She gritted her teeth and began her ascent. Rung by rung, step by step, she slowly moved her way up, getting closer and closer to the divine glow and all-knowing black eyes of the Pikachu until it was only an arm’s reach away… Fingers stretching out, hoping for just a touch of the gentle yellow fur… Until finally, finally, after a holding of breath and a tighter gritting of teeth and a furrowing of eyebrows in concentration, after an awestruck cease in Connie’s cheers, white fingers found their mark, brushing against yellow fur… The gleam in Pikachu’s eyes was no longer a gleam of supremacy but one of acceptance… Sasha let out a loud victory screech and promptly toppled over, continuing the screech as she fell.

“You saw me, right?!” she screamed at the attendant, bolting upright as soon as she hit the inflatable mat. “Did you see me reach the top and touch it?!” Shrieking again, she launched herself at the now-terrified attendant, but Connie quickly stepped in front of the attendant and caught her.

“Easy, Brause,” he said gently, petting her hair. “Simmer down now. You got it. It’s okay.”

Heavy breathing replaced the shrieking and the wild look in her eyes faded.

“Look, you got it.” The attendant had made his way away from Sasha and towards the Pikachu with surprising yet understandable speed. He tossed it at them. Sasha caught it awkwardly. “Just take it and get out of here, alright?”

They took it and got out of there.

“This really is a hassle to carry.”

“Do you think they’ll let us take it on rides?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Jean! Marco! Over here! Hey!”

On the occasions that someone in a crowd yelled Jean’s name, it generally took him a slightly embarrassing amount of time to locate the caller. This occasion was different, however: it was hard to miss the 6’1” blond beefcake known as Reiner Braun, especially when he was standing on his tiptoes (an unnecessary action, really) waving enthusiastically. And next to him, of course, was Bertholdt, towering over everyone and returning nervous glances (he was so _tall_ , after all) with an expression equally as nervous. But then where was?—Annie, as impressively short as Bertholdt was impressively tall, was easy to overlook when standing beside Bert and Reiner.

The trio had been standing towards the back of a line but they squeezed their way out to greet Jean and Marco.

“Hey!” smiled Marco. “It’s great to see you guys here! Jean and I were actually on our way to get on the giant Ferris wheel too. Isn’t it so exciting? It’s one of the biggest Ferris wheels in the country. Gee, it sure is titanic, isn’t it?” He craned his head to see the top of it. “Yeah, that thing’s colossal! I remember going in it when I was a kid and my parents would take me, it was so exciting to be up so high… I felt like how a bird probably feels looking down at everything—although I guess birds mostly look straight ahead, maybe. Do you think they’re scared of falling?”

Yes, Marco was a bundle of energy, prone to babbling when excited. Aware of this, he blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry! That question was a little silly.”

“Let’s get back in line,” said Annie dryly, slightly irritated that they had gotten out of line in the first place. A large group of people stepped into the back of the line as she said this, increasing her irritation exponentially.

They got back in line.

The group of people in front of them happened to be a group of younger teenage girls who nervously ignored the very tall Bert and the very intimidating Reiner. Any security they may have found in the female presence of Annie was promptly whisked away by her very icy expression. Ignoring the group was easy as they buried themselves in loud chatter and technology.

“How many group selfies do they have to _take_?” Bertholdt shifted nervously. He hated it when people standing in front of him took selfies: he always feared that he would end up in one and would be making a weird face. Realistically, his face probably wouldn’t even be in the frame and he knew that, but the fear was still there.

Reiner took out his phone and took an impromptu selfie before Bert had time to protest. He had opened his mouth to say something when it was taken, and the final picture was a slightly blurry, concerned Bertholdt next to a straight-faced Reiner holding up a peace sign.

“Delete it,” said Annie. “I look bad.” She reached up to point to a sliver of the top of her head.

“Please delete it,” agreed Bertholdt.

Reiner pretended to delete it. (Secretly, several hours after the whole affair was over, he set it as his lock screen picture just for kicks. As his lock screen, it didn’t stay secret for very long and Bertholdt put up a fuss about it until Reiner finally agreed to take a better selfie.)

The line dragged on, considerably slowed by the irritations of the heat of the day and the constant gossip of the girls in front of them (was it only a trick of the imagination, or did they get more annoying as the time went on?) and the tiring frustration of being on their feet for an extended amount of time. Finally, _finally_ , they were at the front and able to get in one of the cars.

Being the ones who filled the last carriage of the Ferris wheel, the ride started immediately after they were secured in.

Marco eagerly pressed his face up against the bars of the side of the car. The architecture of the wheel, designed with precision; the vast, steel beams held together with rows of large bolts; it all represented a pinnacle of engineering. How incredible it seemed that something so big could be built by humans! And the intricacies of the design, the planning and reason behind every bolt, every beam… It overwhelmed Marco. He turned back around to face the inside of the car before he got worked up too much.

“Marco, are you… Are you _crying_?” Jean leaned forward to get a better look at his face. “Are you scared of heights or something? I thought you loved this thing… Maybe we shouldn’t have—“

“It’s fine,” interrupted Marco, smiling and rubbing his eyes quickly. His face was red from embarrassment. “This uh… It happens sometimes when I go up higher, some kind of change in pressure and altitude.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense, I guess. Looks like it happens to Bert, too.”

Bertholdt’s face flushed red suddenly and he quickly looked at the ground.

“Woah, are you okay?” asked Reiner.

Bertholdt was quiet for a moment. “I’m fine,” he said, although the tone of his voice clearly indicated he was not fine.

“Oh man, are _you_ scared of heights?” Jean laughed, then, aware of the rudeness of his action, tried covering it with a cough. The attempt at tact was wildly unsuccessful and only resulted in further reddening of Bert’s face. “It’s just—I mean—you’re so _tall_ , I can’t see you as the type to be scared of heights.”

Bertholdt looked up, grey eyes flashing in frustrated anger. “Why do you think I look so _nervous_ all the time, Jean?!”

Reiner snorted indignantly, earning a glare from Bertholdt. “Sorry,” he said. His voice was muffled due to the hand he’d placed over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter. “Sorry, sorry…” He inhaled deeply. “Whoooooo! Alright, alright, I’m done, sorry. It was just really funny. Is that really why you look all nervous most of the time?”

Bert didn’t respond. He stared at his hands.

Reiner had messed up big time and he knew it. “Oh man, I’m sorry man, really. I shouldn’t have dragged you onto this Ferris wheel in the first place, it was my idea to begin with… It’ll be okay, you can just look at the floor, we have all these steel beams holding us up, do you know how many people haven’t fallen to their deaths on this thing? So many, Bertl, so many—“ Bertholdt’s expression worsened. “Oh man, wait, no, I should just stop talking—but it really will be alright, you know… Do you want to hold my hand? We can hold hands if it makes you feel better.”

They held hands. Bertholdt felt slightly better, but the solidness of Reiner’s hand in his did little to cancel out the loose fluttering of his stomach.

“It’s almost over,” said Marco cheerfully. “Since it’s so big, it only goes around all the way twice before it stops to let people off. We’ve already passed the bottom where we started once, and we’re at the very top now—Jean, look, you can see the whole park, isn’t that neat?—so we only really have half of a rotation before it’s over! It’ll be over before you know it, it’s no big deal.”

“No big deal,” repeated Bertholdt numbly. “Right.”

They passed the bottom, and Bertholdt was on the edge of the bench in his eagerness to get out, but they passed where they should have stopped at the bottom and kept going.

“Wait, this isn’t—oh no. Oh no no no no—“ Bertholdt repeated the no’s until the wheel had carried them to the very top again—“No no no no—urk!” He was interrupted as the wheel stopped short, rocking the carriage.

“Oh.” Marco smiled nervously. “Actually, it’s fine, this is supposed to happen. See, you have to be at the bottom to get out, so it really does take a while, and the other cars have to stop until it’s their turn—“

“I can feel the wind shaking it, oh my—“

“Bertholdt! Get a hold of yourself!” yelled Jean, slightly freaked out by the wild look in Bertholdt’s eyes. He looked like an animal trapped in a cage. “Do you call yourself a man?!”

“Chill out, Bertl.” It was the only thing Annie had said for the whole ride, and it was the only thing she would say.

Bertholdt leaned forward to put his head between his knees at the exact moment the car lurched forward. His throat made a nervous gurgling noise.

“Easy there, Bertholdt, eaaaaasy.” Reiner put a reassuring hand on Bertholdt’s back. “We’re just moving down. One step closer to getting off of this thing.”

Bertholdt nodded shakily.

The rest of the ride was filled with reassuring words and small noises every time they moved forward and a gradual increase of Jean’s irritation. Who knew Bertholdt was such a _pansy_ when it came to something like this? He should just suck it up; really, his cowardly blubbering was starting to get on Jean’s nerves… But it wasn’t really his fault, and Jean felt bad for being upset about it.

“Hey,” he said, trying to make up for his internal frustration, “The next stop is the last one where we get off, so pull yourself together.”

Bertholdt sat up and allowed himself to look out of the car. They were surprisingly close to the ground, and he began feeling a lot less nervous. By the time the car jolted back to the loading platform the nervousness had drained out of him, filled with a flooding sense of relief, but the effects still lingered and he stumbled out of the car. He would have fallen had not Reiner grabbed him by the back of his shirt: his legs having turned to jelly, leaning on Reiner for support was a necessity for the next fifteen minutes.

 

* * *

 

 

 

They all met up after several rollercoasters apiece to eat some ridiculously overpriced pizza (“This stuff is expensive, Sasha, you can only have one slice! Save some for the rest of us!”—and a slap to Sasha’s pizza-grabbing hand) and go on the carousel. Armin enthusiastically recounted his rollercoaster adventures (“It went so fast, you guys! You wouldn’t believe how much Eren screamed!”) and Connie shared a photo of a rollercoaster on which the attendant had been chill enough to let His Royal Excellency Sir Snugglechu, Duke of Pallet Town and Defender Against Evil ride. Marco mentioned the ride on the Ferris wheel, but no details were shared for Bertholdt’s sake.

“Save yourself the trouble of a Ferris wheel,” suggested Eren, “And just sit on Bert’s shoulders. It’s pretty much the same thing. I’m sure the Ferris wheel was like standing on his tiptoes for him, no sweat.”

No one commented.

By the time they all dismounted the carousel (Bertholdt sat on a nonmoving horse, very much tired of things that went up and down in a circular motion—His Royal Excellency Sir Snugglechu, Duke of Pallet Town and Defender Against Evil, however, was propped up on a moving horse and bravely remained there for the entirety of the ride) everyone was tired and ready to go home.

“I’m tired and I’m ready to go home,” said Armin sleepily as they made their way out of the park. Mikasa held his hand partially to guide him as he stumbled and partially to make sure he didn’t fall asleep and get left behind. Ever since the shopping cart incident, she was _very_ careful to make sure Armin didn’t get left behind.

The group had come in three separate vehicles: Reiner’s truck only seated three (him and Bertholdt, of course, with Annie squashed awkwardly in the middle), Marco drove a sports car that was only a two-seater with the other seat occupied by Jean, and Connie’s car seated the rest of the group. However, they had not anticipated the addition of His Royal Excellency Sir Snugglechu, Duke of Pallet Town and Defender Against Evil, and the presence of the giant Pikachu stuffy presented a dilemma.

“Well, there’s no room in my truck,” said Reiner. The bed of the truck was filled with miscellaneous junk as well.

“My car is really small, and I don’t think he’d fit in the trunk,” said Marco, voice tinged with apologies.

“There is literally no room in my car either,” said Connie, and everyone stood around, thinking about what to do.

“Hey, Armin, you’re smart, right?” Eren looked at Armin, who was leaning drowsily against Mikasa. “What should we do about this?”

“Hmmm?” Armin hadn’t heard anything. He had dozed off. “Are we still at the park?”

“Armin, none of the cars have any room for Pikachu and _apparently_ leaving him behind is out of the question.” A pointed glare at Sasha, who shrugged in insincere apology.

“Can’t you just… Put him in his Pokeball…?”

“Those aren’t real! Is your brain made of pudding?” But Armin had fallen asleep again.

Reiner rummaged through the back of his truck. “I have some rope in here,” he said, pulling out a length of rope. “We can do it classic Christmas-tree style.”

And that was how Connie ended up driving down the interstate with a large stuffed Pikachu tied to the top of his car.


	5. Incidents at the Amusement Park: Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deleted scene based mostly off of a true story that didn't happen to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally meant to take place after the Ferris wheel, but omitted because carrying around a giant Pikachu really is a hassle and it seems unlikely they'd be willing to take him to the water park.

Meanwhile, Connie and Sasha made their way to the water park. Connie, out of sheer negligence, had forgotten to mention to everyone else that the water park was an option, but Sasha knew, of course, and so they were the only ones who had worn swimsuits under their clothes.

(Reiner, who enjoyed swimming, was very upset with Connie when he found out. "I'm too buff to be wearing a shirt all the time," he complained, "I could be at the water park not wearing a shirt right now, but you just had to go and ruin it. Is it because you're jealous of my muscles? You can admit it, go on, don't be embarrassed."

"Shut up, Reiner, you're so stupid," replied Connie simply, and left it at that.)

"It's so hot today," groaned Sasha, glad to strip off her outer layer. "The water park is so much fun! I love splashing little kids."

"Huh? You're so awful, you know?" But Sasha had already taken off, running into the water before Connie even had the chance to take his shirt off.

He would have gone running after her had she not left all her clothes in a pile. He picked them up. Irresponsibility was a side effect of spontaneity, he mused. Not that he really minded picking up after her.

Connie put their clothes in one of the small lockers and was in the process of dodging through the crowd to get to the water when he was struck by a great idea. Oh yes, it was the best idea he'd had in a while--he could hardly keep a straight face while thinking about it.

As he ran into the water, he realized that running into the water wasn't very stealthy, and this particular idea required a degree of stealth. The best way to go about it would be to go underwater. He adjusted his goggles.

Underwater was a mess of legs and the bottoms of bathing suits and the occasional bandage and required some technical maneuvering. It didn't help that he had to come up for breath sometimes. He scanned the legs, looking, searching for a certain bikini bottom--there!

Connie swam over to the butt belonging to Sasha and pinched it. He heard a surprised yelp from above the water and surfaced, pushing up his goggles and grinning broadly.

"I sure got you!" he laughed, but his laugh was cut short when he saw a very angry face that definitely did not belong to Sasha. "Oh, geez, I'm so sorry, I... This was an accident, I swear, your swimsuit, and... the same as... my girlfriend's... I'm so sorry ma'am, I am so, so sorry..." He had been backing away slowly while speaking, holding his hands up defensively.

To make matters worse, the woman was now whispering to a very muscular man next to her--her boyfriend maybe, or her husband!--and pointing accusingly at Connie. The man cracked his knuckles. Connie turned and ran.

"Hey, Connie, what took you so--woah hey where are we going?" Connie had grabbed Sasha by the wrist and was dragging her out of the water. She stumbled awkwardly behind him. He risked a look backwards; the buff guy was definitely giving chase. Connie swore loudly.

They stumbled onto the dry pavement and ducked through a crowd of people, eventually jumping breathlessly behind a large potted plant.

"Honestly Connie, what the he--mmf!" He clamped his hand over Sasha's mouth. Despite her repeated attempts to get his hand off by licking it, he didn't budge.

Peeking through the plant's fronds revealed the buff man looking very angry and confused but thankfully clueless as to where they had gone. After some time of futilely looking through groups of people, he gave up and returned to the pool. Connie released a breath he had been holding. He also released his now-slobbery hand off of Sasha's mouth.

"Geez, what was that whole thing about, anyway?"

"I had an idea," said Connie sullenly as though that explained everything.

"Your ideas never turn out well, do they?"


End file.
